CHAPTER XXV
THE JUDGMENT OF THE KING
It came about in this wise. I had been taken away by myself into an empty chamber, which was carefully guarded. Not that I was treated rudely. Rather marked respect was paid to me, and I lacked nothing which any man might desire. Nevertheless I had thought much of the scene through which I had been passing, and what it all portended. I could not help realizing that the king had dismissed us very abruptly, and that sore displeasure had rested upon his face as I had spoken. As for Constance, her condition troubled me more than my own. I had noted the look in the king's eyes as he had watched her, and remembering what men said concerning him, I feared much. I determined however that no harm should happen to her, whatever might befall, for did I not love her with all my heart, and had I not told her of my love? Moreover I had promised that I would protect her, and as I thought of this, even prison walls became as nought to me. It was while I was scheming how I should fulfil my promise to her that a lackey entered the room and bade me follow him.
This I did like a man in a dream, for a great silence had fallen upon the king's palace, and everything appeared grim and ghostly. He led me through long corridors, and tortuous ways, so that without a guide I doubt if I could ever have found my way back to the room from which I had come. Presently, however, I heard the sound of distant laughter, and the noise of songsters, then as some intervening wall kept these sounds from reaching me, I passed by an open window, and heard the nightingales singing amongst the trees close by.
The lackey spoke no word, neither good nor bad, to me. I thought he looked sleepy, and would gladly have gone to his rest. Perhaps this was true, for it was rumoured that the king kept strange hours, and expected peculiar service at the hands of his servingmen.
Presently I stood in a little ante-chamber, where I was bidden to wait until it was the king's pleasure to see me, and here I waited I should think a full hour. The first part of the time was weary enough, but the second part passed like a flash of light, and this was because, even although I had tried not to listen, I had to hear that which interested me past words.
Evidently I was close to the apartment where the king was, for every word he spoke reached me with great plainness; but it was not his voice which thrilled my heart, it was anothers, as I shall soon have to tell.
"I pray thy pardon, pretty maid," I heard Charles say. "I know thou hast had a long day's ride, and must be aweary, but I felt I could not sleep until I had speech with thee again."
"I have nothing to say to Your Majesty," replied the voice of Constance.